The Forget-Me-Knot, take 2: Entrance exam
by Michael Sharkey
Summary: A brief flashback to the beginning of things, for one of our major characters (from The Avengers, the British spy series of the 1960s and 70s) Based on a story by Sulamith Ish-kishor.


_A brief flashback to the beginning of things, based on a charming story by Sulamith Ish-kishor, as retold by Max Lucado, and which my niece sent to me a few years ago. So with all due credits given..._

* * *

The flight lieutenant stood up from the bench, straightened his RAF jacket, and looked at his wristwatch. It was time. He began making his way through the crowd of people in Waterloo Station. He was watching for a girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't – the girl with the red rose.

In his personal life, even as a young man, he had developed a flair for the debonair gentleman look; favoring well-tailored tweeds, with umbrella, and lately a stylish bowler hat. But the woman would be looking for an airman's uniform, so that was how it would be this day.

His interest in her had begun 13 months before, in a Brixton library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued – not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margins. The soft handwriting, and keen insights, reflected a thoughtful soul and intelligent mind. In the front of the book, he discovered it had been lent only once, with the borrower's name still on the card. With time and effort he located her address; she was living now in Maidstone, county Kent. He wrote a letter introducing himself, and inviting her to correspond.

The next day, however, he was called back for service in the Berlin air lift. During the next year and one month, the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. He requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.

When the Berlin crisis ended, and he returned to England, they scheduled their first meeting – 7 p.m. at Waterloo Station, under the clock. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.

In later years, over a coupé of Meudon & Heim, he would occasionally share the story of the rendezvous. A friend urged him to put the experience to paper, and he finally did so. In his own telling, it went like this:

"As I crossed the main concourse, towards the clock, a young woman was coming toward me. Her figure was long and slim. Her smooth hair flowed down past delicate ears; her eyes were dark, and flashed with life and intelligence. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive.

"I sensed an immediate connection, and instinctively started toward her, feeling a thrill that my long-held dream was actually coming true. I was so taken by her beautiful face, and lovely form, that I failed to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved towards her, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. 'Going my way, fly boy?' she murmured. Almost uncontrollably, I made one step closer to her. And then I saw the rose.

"The lady wearing it was standing almost directly behind the girl. She was a woman well past 40, with greying hair tucked under a worn-out hat. She was more than plump; her thick ankles stood out, above her low-heeled shoes.

"I glanced back at the beautiful lass. She smiled again, even more invitingly, and gave just the slightest 'come along' toss of her head. Then she strolled away towards the Victory Arch exit, with a cat-like grace. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her – and yet, so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me, and upheld my own. And there she stood.

"Her face was pale, and plump; yet also, gentle and sensible. Her grey eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. In my hands I held the worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. I knew now this wouldn't be the love I dreamed of, but it would be something precious – perhaps even better than love. A friendship for which I had been, and would forever be grateful.

"I squared my shoulders and saluted, then held out the book to the woman... even though while I spoke I felt the pang of my disappointment. 'I'm Flight Lieutenant Peter Peel, and you must be Emma Knight. I am so glad you could meet me – may I take you to dinner?' The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile.

"'I don't know what this is about, son,' she answered, 'but the young lady in the green suit, who just went by, begged me to wear this rose on my coat. She said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you in Collier's Restaurant across the street. Some kind of a test, she said.'"

 _Love, worth waiting for... even more than once._


End file.
